After a long night on the road, you and Dean finally returned to the quiet solitude of your motel room, the dull hum of the highway fading into the distance. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, leaving behind the subtle aches and weariness that only a hunter could understand.

Dean grabbed a couple of beers from the mini-fridge, the clink of glass breaking the silence as he set one down in front of you before taking a seat across the table. The room was dimly lit, with only a flickering motel lamp casting shadows over the tired smiles you both wore.

“Hey,” he said, lifting his beer slightly in a casual toast. “You did good out there. Held your own.”

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle, reaching for your own drink, the tension of the night easing away as you felt the familiar comfort of Dean’s steady presence. For once, there was no rush, no threat—just the two of you, finally winding down.